


through stained glass

by pagkalunod (sisinala)



Category: Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018), Heneral Luna (2015)
Genre: F/M, Lunasona, and Josefa likes it, anthology of sin, in which Joven is a bastard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-20 00:11:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17011791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisinala/pseuds/pagkalunod
Summary: Joven and Josefa, through the colors of the rainbow





	1. Gray

**Author's Note:**

  * For [salamangkera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamangkera/gifts).



> My trash compilation for my trash friend :) I hope you enjoy @salamangkera

                Months. It has been months. Five to be exact, since she last saw her husband. How many times has she imagined knocks on the door, to only open it to the wind?

                Now here he was, in all his exhaustion, looking at her like she was a spring in the middle of the forest and he--who had nothing to drink in all the time that he was gone. Joven was the most unkempt she has seen him in their years together. There was a smattering of stubble on his chin and his shirt was untucked and the sleeves haphazardly rolled. She must admit, other feelings were overtaking the part of her that was missing him. Or was it one and the same? This emptiness that only his presence could fill, and this craving of him, only his touch could assuage. She missed him—all of him. She tried to keep her tears to herself.

                "Sefa," he says, breathless. "I'm home"

                The words die on her lips, because Joven was already there—kissing her senseless. Her husband, back from the war, alive and whole. The tears came unbidden. Her tears wet his cheeks too.

                "I missed you," he says, when they finally come up for air. He was holding her face so tenderly with his hand, the other holding tightly at her hip. He held her so close she almost couldn't breathe.

                "I couldn't breathe, _mahal_ , knowing that you were in danger. Thank you, thank you for running. Thank you for still being here. I don't know what I would have done had I lost you" And then he settles on the crook of her neck, quietly sobbing. He was finally letting himself feel the five months he spent without her. Josefa clutches him, because she has waited five months for any news of him, and finally, finally she can breathe.

                "You have me," she says, looking up at the universe in his eyes. Her universe.

                "And you have me. As long as you want, as long as you need"

                She knew where this was headed, the moment she saw that look in his eyes. The same hunger that she felt, the same ache. _You’re home, mahal. Welcome home._

                "Let's get inside," she tries to say, because she doesn't want to scandalize the neighbors. It was a small town, and news spread here like wildfire. But the thought of having lost him came first. For weeks they tried to convince her that her husband was dead. For weeks she swore she would not mourn. No. He promised.

                "They told me you were dead" He was too busy carving his hands upon her, feeling her as though it was the first time they've touched.

                "Did they?" Joven wasn’t listening anymore. He was too preoccupied in memorizing his wife once more, every nook, ever cranny.

                "Joven, let's get inside" The look upon his face made her blush to her toes. Cruel. He was cruel, sometimes--especially when it’s been a while.

                "You made me wait five months, Joven. Five months with no letter, not even a rumor where the troops may be"

                "I'm sorry," he said, sheepish. She couldn't understand how he still looked like a kicked puppy with the fires still in his eyes. She tried to disentangle herself from his arms. His grip only got tighter. Joven’s shirts and his glasses sometimes make him look smaller than he actually is, more lean. But underneath it all, proof of his years of fencing and wrestling. She could not escape even if she wanted to. Oh, she would pay for this.

                "Let me make it up to you"

                And there it was, the smirk that only she knows. He looked so innocent as he holds her a couple inches off the ground, looking up at her. He smiles, and she knew that she could never deny him.

                "Joven! Let's get inside you bastard!"

                Joven does his favorite thing, sweeping her off her feet and swaying her up his shoulders like a prized sack of potatoes.

                "Hijo de puta!"

                And he smacked her behind like she was an errant child.

                "Joven!" The string of curses were unintelligible against his back as she struggled to balance herself on his wide shoulders.

                "Joven, I swear to God--"

                "Oh, mahal, save the swearing for later. Don't worry, we have time"                                                      

...

                Mindless.

                When did she get here? A few moments ago-- Josefa does not remember, because Joven held her like his favorite pen, using her to make his poetry.

                " _Mahal_ , are you alright? Can you take more?” She curses softly at him, unable to do anything, sprawled beneath him with her wrists in one of his hands.

                "Are you ready?" She was. Ages ago. He was punishing her in his own beautiful way. He loved it when she had tears in her eyes before giving her what she wants.

                "Joven!" His name splinters into two.

                She fights the urge to scream. If she started now, he would give her no quarter until she had no voice tomorrow.

                "Joven, please"

                "Wait"

                "Please?" She hasn't begged enough for his liking. She sobs into the arm next to her head. Her wrists hurt from his grip. But it was a beautiful, beautiful ache. If she knew that he would come home like this, she wouldn't have been half as sad. Joven was erasing the weeks of emptiness with his fingertips.

                "Not, yet. Not yet mahal, trust me"

                "You bastard"

                "You love me. You love this. You can't lie to me when you're like this" He leans his forehead upon hers, staring her down as he rearranges her body to his liking. Her legs hiked up on his arms, his weight on hers.

                "Oh mahal, you're so beautiful like this. At my mercy, begging for me. I missed you so, so much"

                "Open for me” Like she wasn’t already lain like a sacrificial offering.

                "Good girl. Now be quiet, they're having the misa de gallo. You wouldn't want them to hear you being ruined, right?" His words erode whatever sense she has left. He delights in her shattering, groaning in her ear.

                “Beautiful”

                And then everything happens all at once, he surrounds her very soul. She was being delivered, and Joven her angel of destruction. She muffles her screams in the crook of his neck and she clutches his hair as he lets her go. She ruins his name, broken in sobs.

                Joven wipes the tears away. He settles her on top of him, her head on his chest—right where his heartbeat lay.

                “I love you,” he says as he kisses her head.

                “I thought I lost you”

                “You haven’t”

                “I love you too”

                “Sleep”

                She dreams of their wedding day, of how he swore his loyalty to her as if she were the flag. His eyes promised tomorrow, and she knows him enough to believe.


	2. Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JovenXJosefa, A/B/O-style

                Josefa wakes up to something that changes the course of the rest of her life.

                JVN: Hello, I am JVN. I saw your painting yesterday and was thinking—are you up for a collaboration?

                She didn’t know what to do first. Scream? Answer? Hyperventilate?

                Josefa screams into her pillow, careful not to wake the other people in the next room. Her favorite artist just noticed her, and was planning on inviting her for something they could work on together. They were inviting her to _work on something together_. It was JVN’s official account, she’s checked three times. They really messaged her in the middle of the night, an hour after she posted her post-finals sleep-deprived celebratory painting. She didn’t even know how they found her, she never tags them in her posts. She gets up, her fingers shaking as she types out her response.

                Josefa_P: Um. I don’t really know how to reply to this? Yes?

                The response comes immediately, as if they’ve been waiting for her all morning.

                JVN: Yes? That’s all I need haha

                Josefa_P: Yes. Um, what will we be working on?

                JVN: Ah, I really don’t know yet. I just—

                It took them a bit to continue.

                JVN: I just know that I want to work with you. Your painting moved me. The lighting, the contrast. How did you manage to get it so perfect in oils?

                Her heart jumps a bit. She has a feeling that they knew.

                Josefa_P: You know I was really influenced by your last collection. Shapes of Light is my favorite of yours yet.

                Josefa felt like she knew JVN’s soul. As a rare omega, she rarely experiences art that is vulnerable but empowering. Most of the time, it’s just stereotyped submission. But no, JVN understands, in the photos that they take featuring omegas in their last collection. They shoot them whole, in control of who they are, the gradient of light playing with the grays in between being biologically like her.

                _This painting is for those who need reassurance that you may love all of you. That being the way you are is not a weakness. To all omegas out there, I know we are few. But we are strong._

                She painted her own hands, leaning on a windowsill—waiting to conquer her world. JVN understands, and that’s how she’s confident that they’re an omega too. She’d love working with them.

                They set up a meeting at some nearby coffee shop one afternoon. Sefa wears her hair down, covering the glands on her neck. She puts on her favorite dress, and sprays on perfume. She takes her suppressants and then slips on her shoes. She rubs her wrists together, the nervous tick she started when she first presented that never really went away. The mirror tells her she looks fine, and she tries to agree. But she can’t help but feel uneasy. She would finally see JVN face to face.

                It takes less than fifteen minutes to walk to the coffee shop. Scents are stronger to alphas and omegas, and she delights in the aroma of the coffee and the flowers—wait. There was a scent that stood above all the others. It was delectable, smelling like sin and comfort. Heat floods her, and she feels like how she does when her heat starts.

                She tries to control it. It wasn’t the first time she smelled an alpha that stood out, but it was the first time it hit her this hard. Sefa rubs her wrists together, tries to stop breathing as deep as she was and looked around the cafe.

                JVN: I’ll be in a black sweater and gray pants. I’ll sit next to the gumamela.

                No one sat on the left of said plant. On the other side, someone who had their eyes closed in concentration, breathing as shallowly as he could—wearing a black sweater and gray pants. He was no omega. _He_ was the alpha that she was smelling. Sefa lifts her head, approaches him in all of the bravery she knew she had. _This would not change anything._

                She walked to him—thankfully not stumbling. Sefa couldn’t stop looking at him, and when he opened his eyes, she was swallowed whole by their chocolate depths. How did he look so beautiful, just sitting there? His face was not conventionally alpha, it was soft and rounded—but the rest of him was, tall and broad and encompassing.

                Josefa holds out her hand for him to shake. He stares at her face.

                “Hello, I am Josefa. JVN?” He was still looking at her. She raises her eyebrows.

                “Ah—I’m Joven.” Oh. She thought the name was made up of his initials. He shook her hand, and she felt like she was being burned by his touch. It was electric, and she drew her hand back shyly.

                “You’re an alpha.”

                “Yes.”

                “I thought you were an omega, like me.” Joven finally breaks eye contact, looking sheepish and rubbing at the glands exposed on his neck. It floods her with his pheromones, and she clutches at the table for support. Joven closes his eyes once more, trying not to breathe her too deeply.

                “A lot of people think that, too.”

                “So—”

                “I hope this doesn’t change your mind?”

                “It doesn’t.” He smiles a very small smile, and it makes her heart flutter. For someone as big as him, he was very shy.

                “Let’s order?” After their initial embarrassment, conversation flows easily. They talk about their art, their inspirations—of how the world was somehow tilted towards betas and their normalcy. They complain about the side effects of suppressants, of how scents overwhelm them sometimes, and the stigma. Oh, the stigma.

                Josefa tries not to talk about heats, because Joven’s eyes were already intense. She knew he was trying, his hands were shaking as he passed her the sugar, and she wouldn’t fault him for reacting the same way she did. In terms of biology, they were too compatible.

                But there is more to life than hormones.

                Well, that’s what Sefa would like to believe.

...

                They meet up often, just talking about what they would like to do. In the end, they decide that Joven would take photos in black and white and Josefa would paint over them in color.

                “What do you want to call it?” he asks, looking at her from where he was sprawled over the cafe’s only couch that they made their own.

                “Um. I don’t know. But something about the spaces in between. Our work always has that kind of feel.”               

                “Hm. Shade?”

                “Oh, that’s good. Also plays with the way we sometimes have to bury some parts of ourselves to fit in.” He nodded. He was quiet for a few moments afterward.

                “Do you want to go to my studio? So we can start? Or do you want us to rent someplace else if you don’t feel like being in an alpha’s--”

                “No, it’s alright. Thank you for asking. Even my friends sometimes forget that being in alpha’s dens make us uneasy.”

                “I’ve just met lots of omegas.”

                “Thank you, still.”

...

                She tried to prepare for how overwhelming it would be, being in his space. Outside, Joven was easy to talk to, light. But she knew the intensity of his works, knew that he would be different once they step inside his studio. She could feel her glands tingling.

                They decided that they would showcase the way they make their art, so Joven would take pictures of his studio in all its messy glory, and Sefa would paint pieces of her room in the spaces that he would provide in the photos.

                Joven was already starting when she knocked. The door was open, so she let herself inside.

                “Joven?”

                “I’m here.” His scent hit her like a truck. The whole space was saturated in him, mint and grass and chocolate and something else that tasted good at the back of her tongue. Josefa stands frozen near the door, unable to process anything for a while.

                Joven looks up from where he was bending over some film. He was sweaty, the room was hot. She fisted her hands and smiled up at him. Joven walked to her, his eyes burning. He looked away.

                “Um, you can place your things in that cabinet, I cleared it for you.” He gestures toward it. He watches her as she walks toward it, breathing slowly. He licks his lips and he looks away once more.

                This was unbearable.

...

                It takes them two weeks, dancing around each other.

                Sefa would start it, as she topples off the stool she was standing in, reaching for a corner of the canvas. Joven was there, catching her. She realizes that this was only the second time they’ve touched. They’ve both avoided doing it, knowing their effect on each other. Now, Joven’s whole upper body was curled around her as he carries her in his arms. He was perfectly warm. Omegas get cold easily and it makes so much sense to Josefa as she feels him through their clothes.

                A bead of sweat rolls down from his forehead. He was staring at her. Josefa felt the unbearable urge to lick him. They breathe hard, Sefa drowning in him. Joven closes his eyes, his forehead curling in concentration.

                “I’m sorry.” He was too close. The words caress the glands on her neck. They burn, aching to be touched.

                “D-Don’t be.” He still hasn’t put her down. She wasn’t the smallest, she was tall for an omega. But in his arms she felt so tiny, fitting him perfectly. She wondered how else they would fit together, knowing that nature has made them so for each other.

                “I can’t—”

                “I know.”

                “When did you last have your heat?” Oh. That was a very personal question to ask. It drenches her like an ice cold pail of water.

                “What?”                                                                                                  

                “I’m sorry. But you smell so delicious, it could only be heat.” He apologizes for his words the moment they leave his tongue.

                “I just had it last month. It wouldn’t be for a while.”

                “It’s starting now.”

                “H-how--”

                “Probably a breakthrough heat. You should know your effect on me, right?”

                “I-I guess. You feel the same way to me.” She was breathless again. Would he hate it, if she kissed him? He was staring at her lips, so maybe not? He wets his lips with his tongue, and without thinking, she chases it. The moment their lips touch, Josefa understands the way alphas and omegas sometimes refer to each other as soulmates.

                Joven groans against her, and holds her closer if that were possible. He carries her towards the wall, puts her down only to pin her against it. He deepens the kiss, and she moans.

                “Sefa—” Why was he leaving? Doesn’t he know that she needed him?

                “Should I stop?” He leaves, buries himself in her neck, avoiding her glands.

                “W-What?”

                “I can’t—Should I stop?” Josefa prides herself in the knowledge that she had a level head even when she has her heat. But now, now she needed him—only him—and gods be damned she would have him. He was beautiful, smart, kind, and he listens to her even when she’ s rambling. In the few months that they’ve known each other, she wouldn’t have picked a better alpha.

                “I want you. All of you. You’re perfect for me. I know it’s not just the biology talking. If you would have me—” She didn’t know how he’s still talking. “Maybe we should wait until after your heat, so you can think about—”

                “No. I’ve decided a while ago.” It’s true. She wondered for weeks how she would tell him. Well, at least now he would know.

                “I want you too—” She is cut off by his tongue on her gland.      

                “Joven!”

                “I want to bite it.” He nips, and then he soothes the sting with a lick. “I hope you’ll ask me someday.”

                “Don’t tempt me, bastard.” He kisses the side of her head. He clutches her waist.

                “I love you.”

                “Well, I thought I would say it first.”

                “Gotcha.” And then he devours her in the way only he can. The kiss scorches its way through her body. He floods her with his scent and it makes her lightheaded. Their scents were starting to mix, like the way it should.                

                “I love you too,” She says as he leads her to the closest flat surface he found. He clears the table, spreading his work on the cluttered floor, and then leads her down to lie on it.

                He kisses her waist, where her shirt rode up. He laces their left hands together.

                He bites at her hip.

                “Good omega.”


	3. Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What else can Joven lose?

                Time runs out for everyone, even Joven. It takes him a little while to notice, but he knew he was fading. He had to find Josefa.

                “Mahal? Mahal!”, he said to the empty room. Where was she?

                He looked down upon his hands, only half-visible. He tried to keep it together, but this was how this started—and somehow they knew this was how it ends. Where was his wife?

                “ _Joven? Joven, mahal? Am I going crazy? Joven?”_ , she said then, tears in her eyes as she stands from pew from where she knelt. The church was not where he was praying, it was—bare. The colors were too bright, the light too intense, and his wife was alive.

                “ _Josefa?”_

                She had the same name, the same face. It was his wife, a hundred and so years into the future. She was wearing too little, her hair different. But she had that exact same look in her eyes as she looked up at him. Joven wanted to be confused, but she was looking at him like it was a miracle that he was standing there, barefoot and sleep-deprived—wearing a camisa and pants outdated by decades.

                _“Are you real? Please tell me you’re real”_

_“I am. I’m here, mahal. I don’t understand, but I’m here”_

                He kissed her then, because it has been months after she succumbed to malaria. In his time he lost her and their child, and he—who else does he have to lose? He held on for four months, praying and hoping for some sign—knowing that she would not wish for him to suffer. He believed she watched from above, cradling their child. She told him she loved him in his dreams, and that she was sorry that she left. He woke with tears in his eyes and the ghost of her touch in his hand.

                He went to the church to beg for forgiveness before he went to the bridge.

                _Forgive me, Father. I’m sorry for I cannot live without her._

                And then he opened his eyes to Josefa, standing in front of him—holding a precious little girl with his eyes and her smile.

                He couldn’t move, so she approached him with shaky legs. The child reached out to him, and he did too. She said a string of unintelligible syllables, and Joven’s heart clenched. They reached him, and he touched her. Her cheeks were soft and beautiful and she was here.

                _“What did you name her?”_ He said through his sobs.

                _“Milagros”_

_“Our little miracle”_

“Joven? Why are you screaming? Milagros just fell—”  He was standing in their bedroom, clad only in his pajama pants—his hands were fading.

                “This is how I came to you”

                “Y-You’re leaving?”

                “I don’t know”

She runs to him, cradles his face and then looks him over. She holds his half-vanished hands, threads her fingers between his.

                “I can’t lose you again. Please, Joven” And then she falls to his chest, holding him as tightly as she can. Joven puts his arms around her, and tucks her under his chin.

                “I don’t know how I can stay”

                “God brought you to me only to take you away?” She falls. He catches her. They kneel on the floor, both in tears.

                Joven didn’t know what else to do, so he kisses her in desperation.

                “Joven. Please tell me you’ll stay—I can’t”

                They were running out of time.

                “Shh—Sefa— I’m still here“ He kisses the top of her head, and then he kisses her eyelids—salty with her tears. She sobs. He doesn’t know how to take her pain away.

                _In my time, you’ve been gone for four months. I’ve been grieving for—_

_In here, you’ve been gone a year. We got into a car crash. You died in my arms. Your last words were here name._

                _I’m sorry._

                “Josefa, remember what you told me?”

                “I know, I know. We have to live every moment. Our miracle”

                “We have to be grateful for the time we had” He didn’t want this to be the way he leaves. But there are things that are beyond him, beyond them. So he says, even if it hurts,

                “I love you and I’m sorry”

                “No. Not yet. We have time. Don’t we?” She kisses him, drowning him in her.

                “Yes. Yes” She draws him down, lying him flat on the floor. He chases her, tries to put all the pain in one corner of his mind. He had time, they were given time. He had to say  goodbye.

                Not on the floor.

_“Mahal”_

                “I need you” He kisses her again, convinces her with his lips. He breathes only when she’s breathless, and he leads her to the bed. She falls across, dressed in a thin shift and moonlight—eyes shining.

                “ _I’m yours, Joven. You can have me”_ , she said on their wedding night when she noticed that his hands were shaking. She was shaking too, as she slowly reaches out to drag him down. They were still fully clothed and Joven felt hot to his stomach. He was blushing everywhere. She was too.

                _“Teach me how to please you”_ They taught each other, in tentative touches and misplaced hands. They finished to the sound of each other.

                Being together in this time at first felt like being unfaithful. They both believed they were being tested by the heavens. He lives in their house, stumbling over the changes time has shaped upon the world. He wonders, surprised at how everything has changed. Josefa often watches him, tries to teach him in weeks what she has learned her whole life. Joven has always been a quick study though, and soon he is cooking, washing, manning the house.

                Josefa feels like she’s the one who went back in time, because he had the same gestures as her husband—the same smile, the same way he says her name when he was frustrated about their stove. It makes them both feel very confused.  

                Milagros fixes the problem when she calls him ‘Papa’, out of the blue. Josefa smiles, closes her eyes and then holds his hand in between hers. Her forehead curls and she kisses his fist. _It is you._

                “Joven?” She was pleading now. Who was he to deny her?

                He hovers above her, ignoring the phantom clock that governs them. If tonight would be the night they say goodbye, he would make them memories that would last them the rest of their lives.

                _I cannot promise you forever, but I can promise you today._ Weren’t those their vows?

                He kisses her with all the strength he could muster. Joven smothers her with him, until she could no longer think about anything other than him.

                “Joven, wait--” He crawls his way down, kissing her neck and then the valley between her breasts. He reaches her, and he lifts the shift only to find her bare.

                 She was ready, but that wasn’t enough.

                “Josefa, shhh. Let me”

                He nips at her hip. He wanted to memorize her moans, her taste. He keeps her going for a while, begging and twisting the syllables of his name.

                “Joven—“ She rakes her hands through his hair and then pulls. He stares at her as she twists on the matress and screams. He kisses her one last time before coming back up.

                “Joven, let me—“

                “No, we don’t have time” Her tear-stained eyes burn in anger. She flips them over.

                “You’re making love to me like its the last time. Let me.” Joven looks away, embarassed. He was used to giving that he doesn’t know how to receive. These past months, the sex was all about her, her needs. It was like he was saying sorry for all the times he faltered in his last life. _Let me stay and I’ll take better care of her._

                It seems like he hasn’t paid enough for his sins.

                And so she lets her kiss his stomach, and down. She tugs on his pants and he only lifts his hips so she could. She looks at him as she kisses the tip. It takes her a while to fit the whole of him, but she does. Joven’s tears are replaced by pleads. He makes her braver, all the time.

                “Sefa—mahal, wait—“ He leads her on with his hands on her hair, and they bring themselves to their peaks, and Josefa tries not to gag.

                When they kiss, they taste like themselves. It drives Joven to fit her over himself, and they both sigh.

                “Don’t leave me”            

                “I won’t, “ he lies through his teeth, driving her hips until they both scream. He would leave her bruises tomorrow, to remember him by. He drives her higher than he ever did before, and when she comes she glistens in the moonlight streaming through their window.

                He holds her through it, until it’s his turn to break.

                “I love you”

                “I love you”

                Sleep takes  them both away, stealing what time they have left.

...

                She is woken by the cries of a rooster, perched somewhere outside the capiz windows. The bed was harder, the mattress had less give. She fell asleep on top of Joven, who was holding her so tightly even in his sleep.

                “Joven?”  He opens his eyes to her, and he looked thunderstruck.

                “Josefa?”

                “We’re still—”

                “You’re here?”

                They are broken from their reverie by the pointed cries of Milagros.

               All was well.


	4. Yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josefa finds something on her front porch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ummm this chapter raised the rating to E ummm so yea

               The rain was coming down hard. Sefa’s shoes were soaked to her socks, and she cursed the whole way home. She was wearing her favorite pair, with dogs printed on them and the ear flops peeking out the tops of her shoes. She cursed again. Her umbrella was groaning under the weight of the raindrops and the wind blew the rain in all directions all around her, effectively soaking her to her bones. Why did she go out for ice cream?

               Finally, she caught sight of her apartment.

               The street was flooded to probably halfway her lower legs. _Fuckity fuckity fuck._

               Her pants were already wet. She pushed her hand through her hair as she prepared to walk through the flood. She prayed she won’t get infections.

               She gets to the gate, where she notices a huge plastic bag thrown haphazardly in front of her house. Sefa almost ignores it, but then it moves. She jumps back. Did she just imagine it?

               She pokes the bag with her foot, and the first thing she sees are large yellow eyes and black fur.

               It was breathing.

               Josefa starts praying. Someone left a wild animal on her front door.

               The creature’s head lolls as it stares at her. Sure, she volunteers for animal shelters, but this—this was beyond her. She hesitates. Should she ignore it? It needed help, but what if it mauled her? She needed to get inside, get her phone and call their volunteer vet. They would probably have a heart attack, to know just how big of a cat she was bringing.

               _“Can you hear me?_ ” Josefa drops her keys on the wet cement. The voice was loud and clear in her head. What was going on?

               _“My name is Joven. Please, help me._ ”

“W-What?” Normally Josefa would be freaked out by this. But she was tired, she was wet, and she was very much annoyed.

               “What the hell man! What’s going on?”

               _“I—I promise I won’t hurt you. Help me, please. I swear I’ll leave after.”_

               The voice called to somewhere deep inside her soul. Her heart ached, enough for her to hold her umbrella by her neck and lift the rest of the plastic away from the creature. She was right. It was a black panther.

               _“I’ve been attacked.”_ The creature was lying. She didn’t know how but she knew.

               “Can you make it inside?” The cat opened its eyes, focused on hers.

               _“I know who you are, Winged One. Let me protect you.”_ Fuck. Her mother would not like this. She felt for her necklace, reached out to all the wards and protection spells inside. They were all intact. This was no ordinary shifter.

               _“Joven Hernando, Lady. I was sent by my tribe as offering. Use me as you see fit.”_ What was she going to do with a huge cat? She needed to have a word with her mother. She needed to stop sending her bachelors to vie for her hand. She just sent away another fae prince last month. She just wanted to finish her studies without being interrupted by her duties. They had a deal.

               Now, what to do with Joven.

               _“I cannot come back to my tribe empty-handed Lady. Better sentence me with death—”_

“Stop being dramatic. Get up, let’s get you inside before the neighbors notice you.”

               _“I—I can’t.”_ He was really injured. Joven looked ashamed of himself. Josefa looked around, then waved her hand and cast a concealment spell before trying to cast healing spells on Joven.

               _“I—I’m not worthy—”_

“Shut up.” Josefa gave up on the umbrella, rain won’t fall on her if she didn’t want it to anyway. She knelt next to Joven and put her hands on him.

               “What attacked you?”

               _“I attacked them, Lady. Shadows, after your Light. They’ve been gathering around your house for months.”_

               “You’ve been here that long?”

               _“I just—I just patrolled nightly around the block and took down shadows, Lady. I never stayed long at your door. I—I didn’t know how to approach you. I saw the Prince, how you sent him away.”_

               “I would send you away too if you hadn’t pulled this stunt.” Her magic finally sews his skin together. The fur would have to grow back, for now he had to live with the visible scars.

               “Let’s get inside.” She opened the door and let him in.

               “Don’t you dare shake yourself!”

...

               Joven was magic, so he didn’t really need to eat a whole lot—but for someone subsisting on cereals and ramen noodles, Josefa had to shop more groceries than she ever had. He couldn’t shift back at first, he was too weak. But, in the presence of a Fae, his magic thrived. In a few days he was up and attempting to shift.

               “Hey, are you alright?”

               _“Yeah—”_ He was breathing hard, curved just in front of her couch, paws extended in front of him like he was clutching something.

               _“I think—”_ And then his magic got too hot that Sefa had to step back. She cast protection charms all over her place just in case his magic got explosive.

               When she opened her eyes, she was faced with a man. A very naked man.

               “Joven?”

               “Lady?”

               “Grab that pillow over there, I’ll get you a blanket.” She hoped he didn’t see the blush on her face.

...

               Joven was used to living in the human world.  But still, he sniffed everything, and he was too big for the clothes she bought at first. She had a long talk with her mother, who was too busy to really listen to what she had to say. _‘I’m maintaining balance between worlds, Josefina!’_

               He really liked milk though, even if it made his stomach upset most of the time. Josefa had tried to stop him multiple times, but she loved milk too and he could always sniff out wherever she tried to hide it. He helps in the housework, which he was really good at. His parents had taught him how to function in the human world, he said. _Eventually, they’ll reach us._

               And they did. Which was why Josefa was trying to learn, instead of waiting for the inevitable. If she were to bridge the worlds together, she needed wisdom from both. She was young and had so much more to see.

               _“What are you thinking about?”_ Sefa jumped while washing the dishes. She told him to stop doing that.

               “I’m sorry. I’m used to talking to the colony like this. I will better myself, Lady.”

               “I told you to stop calling me that, too.”

               “But I can’t just—” She washed her hands and put them on her hips. She stood in front of him. Sefa was above average height, but she was just level with his eyes while he sat.

               “Call me Sefa. Try it. Right now.”

               “Yes, Lady.” She raised her eyebrow. His golden eyes flashed and then he looked down, like a kicked puppy. She was tempted to pat his head.

               “Sefa.”

               “Good boy.” He raised his head. His pupils narrowed. He stared at her. He stood. It didn’t help that he didn’t quite fit in the clothes she brought, even after she magically altered them. It seemed like everytime he breathed, the buttons groaned. Josefa looked at him, feeling small.

               But she was feeling something else too.

               “Please don’t call me that, Lady. I am Joven Hernando of the Black. I may be your servant but I am not your slave.”

               “I’m sorry.” Joven closed his eyes, and it was like someone doused him in cold water. Joven had never been anything but courteous.

               “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you that. You’re not a dog.”

               “I’m not. But I shouldn’t have raised my—” Joven caught a whiff of her. Josefa’s heart just started to beat faster.

               “L-Sefa. Can I ask a question?”

               “Sure. But I think you know the answer already.” No one else but her mother knew. But she could not deny it in front of the Prince of Cats. He could smell her.

               “Are you half shifter? Specifically feline?” He didn’t need to ask. Her mother got around. And Fae weren’t really the most fertile of magical folk, which was why they were rare. On the other hand, shifters were on the opposite side of the spectrum, which was why they often mingled.

               “Yes.”

               “Then you’re in danger. I need to leave.” No, he really did not. She could smell him now too, and he smelled absolutely delicious. Sefa clutched his sleeve.

               “Help me?” It sounded too needy in her ears. His eyes glowed in the night.

               “Are you sure? Sef, your heat is getting to your head. I need to leave so you can handle it—” She was burning inside. Why was he still talking?

               “No, I can’t take one of these by myself. Please, Joven.”

               “No, Lady. This isn’t you—” Sefa purged herself with her magic. She was furious, but he was right. She needed to think this through. _Damn you, mother. You knew it was coming._

               Joven was still the kindest, gentlest person she knew. He coaxed her succulents back to life, he brought one bird in once and nursed it back to health. And well, she had this crush on him ever since he shifted back. Her mother had finally sent an offer she could not resist.

               “Joven. Don’t you want me?”

               “That’s not fair. You know how I feel about you. You won’t think that way after your heat has passed.”

               “What do I smell like to you?”

               “Um, I’m trying not to breathe right now.”

               “What do I smell like to you?” She repeated.

               “Magic?”

               “And?”

               “And nothing else.”

               “Yes. I’m Fae, Joven. I have my ways.” Joven breathed. He felt like a switch had flipped inside him. Well, if she wanted it same as him, what use is holding back? He stood his full height and stepped forward. Sefa walked backward until she hit the sink. Joven caged her in with his arms.

               “Winged One, you shouldn’t taunt your mate when you’re like this.”

               “Mate?”

               “Yes, mate.” He breathed, and Sefa’s head swam. It was like they were both in a trance.

               _“Why do you think our magics are so in tune with one another? Why your body sings only for me?”_ Then he touches her exposed shoulder with his knuckles, softly, gently that it makes her close her eyes.

               _“Do you think anyone else can make you feel like this?”_ Joven drops his lips on her shoulder, kissing the skin he found there. He makes his way to her neck in soft kisses.

               _“I—_ ”

               “My Lady.” His lips were too close to hers that she could feel his breath. She tries not to move. She could feel his smile when their lips touch. It was all unnervingly gentle that the glands on her neck and wrists were going berserk. She needed him to touch them.

               “Joven, please touch me.”

               “I am touching you.” He chuckled and the sound went straight to her core. When did his hands go to her hips?

               He lifted her like she weighed nothing, and wrapped her legs around his waist. She opened her eyes in surprise, and up this close she could see that his eyes were two different shades of yellow. The other was gold and the other more yellow-green. Also, his fangs showed when he smiled. He was walking them into her room.

               He throws her on the bed haphazardly.

               Josefa bites her lips.

               “Don’t rip my—” Too late. In his hands her shirt was shred like tissue. He didn’t even bother looking apologetic, he just proceeded to divest her of the rest of her clothing while kissing his way down her body. He nibbled, he licked. His tongue was scratchy and she grew hotter just thinking about—

               He laughed. The nerve.

               He crawled up her body to whisper in her ear. He licked there, too. Just a teasing pass but it was enough to make her shiver.

               “You like my tongue, Lady Josefina?” He chuckled again, just once. “Maybe you’ll like my fingers too.” He passed his pointed fingernails lightly along the skin of her abdomen, and then he strummed the elastic of her underwear so it plucked back on her skin. Suddenly, he noticed something that made him look rigid. Her wings were fluttering behind her back.

               _“Are those_ — _?”_ She looks at him and then she turns around so he could see. Her wings gently caught the moonlight, making her look ethereal. Joven kisses her at the base of her neck. It makes her curve her spine. Soon, he was pressing her down on the bed, lifting her knees forward so she was presented to him. He positions her the way he wanted, and he lets her because his tongue was licking between her wings. Helpless, she waits.

               “Hold your hands up over your head.” She obeys. He was her mate and she trusted him. She didn’t know how freeing it was, being under him.

               “Keep them there, Sefa.” He growled the words on her back. Sefa squirmed and whined.

               “That’s right. Good girls know when to listen. Are you a good girl?”

               “Y-yes.” His hands poise over her leg, his fingernails digging into her skin. She looks back as he flexes his jaw and his fangs peek just a little bit. It only turns her on all the more.

               “Yes what?”

               “Yes, my Prince.”

               “Good. Forget again and I’ll tie your wings up.” The wings were easily the most sensitive part of the Fae, especially the roots. She imagined them being tied up by ribbons, being pressed into the mattress. Joven breathes in deep.

               “You smell amazing, Sefa. Lift your hips.” He doesn’t do anything for a while, just stares at her. They look at each other. And then he proceeds to also rip his clothing to shreds. Josefa looks away when he’s bare.

               _“Why are you looking away, Sefa? Feel what you do to me.”_ He grabs her hips and passes his erection through her folds. It makes them both cry out. His hands go to the front, pinches her where it matters. Josefa screams into her pillows, eyes rolling and he laughs. Fucking laughs.

               “Keep your hands there, Sefa.” He growls, and then removes himself from between her legs. She didn’t even know that she moved. Joven arches her back more, pressing on her shoulderblades on the mattress and lifting her hips more toward him.

               _“I think I’ll have you like this, Josefina. Watch you take me.”_ He licks just where her spine ends and then uses his fingers to spread her apart.

 _“Fuck. I didn’t even need to touch you! You’re ready for me to fuck aren’t you?”_ And because her control had slipped a few moments ago, her heat state returned in earnest.

               “Please, Prince.” His eyes glow in the dark. He breathes the scent of her, lets it get to his head.

               “Please what? Tell me and maybe I’ll give it to you, darling.”

               “Please fuck me.”

               He enters her without warning. It makes Sefa move forward on the bed, twisting in the sheets. He was too hard, too hot. He takes her way too roughly and she was embarassed to admit that she liked it too. He grabs her hands, folds them in front of her chest and curls her up. The angle becomes almost unbearable, and Sefa screams his name. 

               “Good girl.” He was smiling into her shoulder, nipping at her glands and makes everything feel ten times better. “One more.”

               She hasn’t really come down yet when he drives her to another peak. They feel so good together that she almost passes out. Joven licks a stripe on her glands. They scream.

                When she comes down from the high, Joven was biting more kisses into her neck, and she was sure they’ll bruise tomorrow. He lets her spine relax, laying her down on the pillows, kissing her wings.

               Joven’s arms tighten as he curls closer toward her. The position is almost uncomfortable, but he’s warm and his purring leads her to deep sleep.

               “I love you,” he says too quietly.

               “I love you.” She doesn’t see his surprised smile.


End file.
